Thaaaaaankkkkkkkkkksssss

Ah, the annual Thanksgiving post. A post where I take note of all the things in my life that I am thankful for. These are the things that keep me going, the things that stop me from shooting myself in the head or requesting a pre-frontal lobotomy (okay, I lied, there's absolutely nothing that can stop me from requesting one every time I go for my physical. But hey, you will never know unless you ask, right?!)

Usually I spend my time ranting and raving about all the things I hate and all the people I would like to cunt punt, but for just one post a year, I like to take some time out and pay my respects to the people I love most.

This year I am thankful for...

Tom Hardy:

Yeah, I have been privately (and intimately) giving him thanks for the past year, every night...but now I want to do so publicly. Tom and I are in it for the long-run. Our relationship has been a real roller-coaster of emotions but, at the end of the day, we are just two people who are in love with each other and who really want what is best for each other. Now, all we gotta do to take things to the next level is, ya know, meet each other.

But Tom, for you, I am thankful.

The Security Guard at school who always checks me out as I move through the turn-style entrance:

Yeah, don't think I forgot you for a second! I see you checkin' out my backpack as I walk on by. I want to thank you for being my one and only. If it was not for you, no man would check me out. But, you, my dear sixty-something year old creepist, you go where no man has gone before. 

And, for you, I am thankful.

Friendly's

Friendly's ice cream, you better believe I am talking about you. For years you have made your delicious ice cream egg-free, so that I can enjoy your delectable treat while motherfuckers and asswipes likes Ben and Jerry's and Haggen-Dazs continue to poison their ice cream with the one thing in this world that can kill me (well, besides a Taylor Swift concert). You are my hero and my savior.

And, for that, I am thankful.

NYPD

This is a special, special thanks to New York's finest for not shooting me. A small but appreciated gesture that I seriously can not be more grateful for. All a girl really needs in this world is a cappuccino machine and not to get shot.

And for you, sweet piglets, I am thankful.

Ryan Gosling

Ryan, although we broke up a year ago and you broke my heart in twenty different ways, I learned a lot from you. I learned a lot about self-worth and even a little something about delusional relationships. In essence, I learned we were never in a real relationship at all. In fact, my flicking the bean to you every night meant absolutely nothing to you and never will.

And for that (harsh but necessary) lesson, Ryan, I am so very thankful.

Wine

My sweet, sweet, beautiful princess. You are the love of my life, the fire of my loins, my sin, my soul.  But also, you do a really fine job keeping me fucked up when I want to be.

For you, I am so very thankful.

My biddies

Yes, that's you! Thank you to all of you sick, sons of bitches who read my posts week after week. Although you are (without a doubt) psychotic for returning to this perverse and sociopathic prose, I would be no where if it was not for you.

And for you, young biddies, I am more than thankful.

XOXO,

Jules

When I Walk Into the Room, I OWN It

I am assuming that all of you tuned into the season premiere of Real Housewives of Atlanta, Monday night on Bravo. Okay, now that my assumptions have been made, I will begin dishing my scoop on the drama that is unfolding before our very eyes.

Before I begin getting into all of the individual story lines, I need to address the opening tag lines. The opening tag lines are, arguably, the most anticipated aspects of the entire season. In addition, the tag lines are a great indicator of how a season will play out. That being said, I am terrified of what I witnessed on my flatscreen television Sunday night. The tag lines were an absolute disgrace. They were an embarrassment to Real Housewives (and future Real Housewives... aka me) everywhere.

Now, Atlanta has been on thin ice lately. With the banishment of Kim Zolciak, there has been a whole lot of uninteresting drama that I have been forced to watch. Yes, forced. Last season they dedicated a whole episode to Kenya Moore's dog's funeral for fuck's sake. And while you all know I love myself a cute little pooch, I hardly find this worthy of even more than five minutes of an episode.

Here are my current thoughts on all of the Real Housewives of Atlanta:

Cynthia Bailey:

I have very little to say about Cynthia Bailey (as per usual). She is one of those housewives that brings absolutely nothing to the table (kind of like the whole Real Housewives of New Jersey cast). She has prided her self on being Nene Leakes's bitch for the past few seasons but now with their relationship disintegrated and their "friend contract" nothing more than embers in her kitchen sink (like literally embers, as shown in the preview for the season), there is very little to even remark on. Her husband's white beard, however, continues to look like a salt bagel... and let me tell YOU, I love myself a good salt bagel every now and again.

Nene Leakes:

That brings us to Ms. Nene Leakes. Nene is probably one of the most humorous housewives in all of the Housewives franchise, but I really hate to admit that. Nene is so far up her own ass, she pretty much has herself mistaken for Beyonce (and Beyonce acting like Beyonce pisses me off enough...) And I can not be the only one who is deeply troubled by Nene and her husband Gregg's graphic descriptions of their sex life. It makes me just hate sex and... everything in general.

Kenya Moore:

Kenya has always been "the wild card," as she rightfully stated last season in her tagline. I started off really disliking her. I mean, between having a fake boyfriend, Walter, and obsessing over her very non-coveted Miss USA title, there was very little to be admired or understood. However, things started to change. Was Kenya actually FUNNY?! As last season progressed, I was pleasantly surprised by some of the witty bon mots that were leaving her well-lipsticked lips. It's a great thing when you realize that these Real Housewives still have the ability to surprise you.

                                                                  BUM DUM CHHHH

Phaedra Parks:

Phaedra's storyline is promising to be the most dramatic of the story lines this season. With Apollo, her hot ex-convict husband, now being sentenced to nine more years in jail, Phaedra faced a not-so-tough decision of whether or not she's done hittin' it and quittin' it. In typical Phaedra manner, she's given him the old boot. There are even supposed rumors a flitter that she is bangin' some dude named Chocolate. I do not hate this rumor. In fact, I pretty much LOVE this rumor and am almost positive that it is either completely true or completely false. Although, I do very much hope it is true. Who doesn't wanna bang someone named Chocolate at some point in their life?

Kandi Burruss:

Don't get me wrong, I do like Kandi a lot AS A PERSON. But as a real housewife, I am starting to think she is just a little bit too normal. Her story line has been a snooze fest for seasons and seasons. I just do not think she is cut out for this reality television trash. I mean, Momma Joyce would be a much better real housewife than her. (Side note, Todd is totally a goldigger. Hasthag team Momma Joyce).

Now, this leaves us with some questions. Is Porsha still a real housewife? I mean, she made an appearance in this episode but she was not shown in the beginning introduction tag lines. Not to say that I care if she is gone, but the previews for the upcoming season seem to suggest that she will be a regular on the show. Also, we have yet to meet the two new housewives that have been added to the show. Will we like them? Will we hate them? Only time will tell.

Ugh, for god's sake, why do I still watch this shit?

XOXO,

Jules

Halloween Shmalloween

This Halloween season has come and passed before my very eyes and, I must say, I barely even noticed it was here at all. Ever since my mother insisted I was "too old" to trick-or-treat (last year), I have had very little interest in the holiday. It was not until the other day that I was reminded disturbingly of its inevitable approach...

As a graduate student, I often frequent preposterous places like the library, for instance. This is time well-spent judging undergraduates or basically anyone who steps into my line of vision. I always pick the "talking" floor so that I am not subjected to pure silence and, furthermore, subjected to actually doing my work. Equipped with my Nalgene (filled with iced tea, of course) and a notepad that simply consists of doodles of my signature, Julianna Mcconaughey, I prepare myself for an hour of what one can consider the only thing better than television (and there are NO commercials).

For one thing, I am regularly astounded by the number of people who are named "Nigga" in the library. Every...single...one...of... them. Same name. Fascinating!

But I digress, we are talking about Halloween here, Jules. Thursday afternoon, I sat, you know, pretending to mind my own business when a dumb biddy sits at the table next to me. She was on the phone with the bae, of course. She was a little bit hipster and a lot bit annoying looking. It was safe to say that she now had my undivided attention.

Immediately after sitting down she began yelling into the phone at her boyfriend, telling him she's going to be a pirate for halloween... but not just any pirate, a COOL pirate.

"BAE! NO! I AM NOT GOING TO BE A SEXY PIRATE, I AM GONNA BE A COOL FUCKING PIRATE! I AM SO SICK OF PEOPLE ASKING ME IF I AM GOING TO BE SEXY, I AM GOING TO BE COOL BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I WANT TO DO! I'M GONNA BE SO COOL! OH MY GOD THAT MAKES ME SO MAD THAT PEOPLE THINK I SHOULD DRESS SEXY... NO... I AM GONNA BE COOL"

This same line was repeated several times until she finally decided to hang up and mosey on to the bathroom to, undoubtedly, drop a well overdue deuce.

There I was, thinking about the conversation that just unfolded before me and about all of the dumb biddies that I have judged in the past for dressing like skanky skanks on Halloween and, suddenly, it occurred to me: "slutty" is the new "non-slutty."

Confused? Well, so was I at first but let me break it down for ya. For many years, scantily clad girls frolicked around in their "costumes" every Halloween. Girls were "granted" a "free-pass" at dressing however they want without jeopardizing their "modesty." This became the norm. Cowgirls turned into "sexy cowgirls," nurses turned into "sexy nurses," Santa Clauses turned into "sexy Santa Clauses," and french fries turned into "sexy french fries."

Now, some girls (generally hipsters or more forward thinking attention whores) caught onto this trend and figured out how to get the attention of studs on Halloween amongst a sea of Nipple pasties, g-strings and loin cloths. These clever attention-seeking biddies decided to take the non-skanky route. All of a sudden, sexy nurses turned into just plain nurses (with scrubs?!?!), sexy cowgirls turned into cowgirls, sexy Santa turned into just plain Santa and finally French Fries were no longer sexy French Fries.

Now, for girls like me, who would prefer to bathe in a bath full of maple syrup than leave the house without ankle to toe covered, this was our regular Halloween attire. And here, these annoying attention-seeking hipsters are (like this girl I witnessed in the library) trying to steal our prude thunder.

These FUCKING cunts.

ALL of a sudden it is "hot" and "cool" to be not skanky. My whole life I have been dressing like an anti-skank and no one mistook me for being cool... like, ever.

This whole incident with the "cool" pirate in the library and the evolution of Halloween in general is making me re-think everything I used to believe. I am starting to think that those biddies with a good head on their shoulders, those biddies who are not thirsty attention whores, have no choice but to dress skanky to remain under the radar. We have no CHOICE but to wear nipple pasties to keep our modesty intact. No choice.

Next year, I am trading in my California Roll costume for a Sexy California Roll Costume.

...Oh, Life.

                                       

XOXO,

Jules